


Nightcall

by absurdiist (workthewentz)



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, But also some feelings, Choking, Clubbing, Drinking, F/M, Gags, Gender Neutral V, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, but also like, can be read as either, listen i don't know what else to tag this it's porn, or neither, some quiet time and banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/workthewentz/pseuds/absurdiist
Summary: V glanced over, expecting to see Johnny looking up at the ceiling, the window, anywhere but directly into their eyes. His aviators were missing, the intensity of his stare boring through them. V swallowed but rose to the challenge, not breaking eye contact. Johnny leaned forward, crowding V against the wall. They raised their eyebrows and licked their lips, skin flushed. “You wanna kiss me, or keep lookin’ at me like somethin’ to eat?”
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 18
Kudos: 368





	Nightcall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the #silverbraincellsquad for cheering me on and especially to skitter, who provided me with the best Johnny Silverhand Insults a gay could ask for. 
> 
> I haven't finished the game yet, so there aren't really any spoilers here, but please don't spoil me in the comments either! If you feel so inclined, though, tell me what you think! How's Johnny's voice, how's my sentence structure. Gimme that good ol' English class crit.
> 
> Title is Nightcall after one of my favorite songs on the OST.

V listened to the pattering of heavy rain on their window, sighing as yet another news segment interrupted whatever mindless advertisements droned on the television in their apartment. They turned away from the glass, settling on the couch with a block of whetstone and the katana they'd pulled from the former boss of Clouds. They began to sharpen it steadily, humming tunelessly as they worked. The violent rain, the newscaster's overexcited voice, and the soft, rhythmic slice of the katana formed a calm backdrop, and V let themselves truly rest for a moment, take a backseat to the constant stress and fight within their own mind.

But reprieve could only last so long, and soon Johnny was fizzling into their peripheral vision, yet staying uncharacteristically silent. V cocked their head and looked up, quirking an eyebrow at their companion.

"What, got nothin' to say?"

Johnny didn't answer right away, pulling the aviators from the bridge of his nose and sauntering over to V's bed before plopping down. The mattress didn't dip a centimeter. "'M not used to this, is all. You're not bitchin' at me, I'm not buggin' you. 'S kinda nice, having quiet like this."

V snorted. "Trust me, I'm not used to it either." Johnny tilted his head back and let his shoulders drop a bit more but didn't speak, letting V continue. "Before, at Arasaka. I used to be constantly stressed. Always lookin' for an angle, a way to impress the bosses. No days off for a corpo."

V laid the katana down next to the whetstone on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. "Then after, with Jackie, everything was a party. Always had some job or other, linin' up eddies. Somebody to flatline or somethin' to celebrate."

Suddenly Johnny's voice was closer, next to them on the couch, but V didn't startle, used to his constant shifting. They simply adjusted so they were facing Johnny. "I'd think not gettin' zeroed yourself would be something to celebrate,” he said.

V was inclined to agree, the first few times. The biochip had given them access to Johnny's memories, though, and they knew that his experience with constantly being under the influence – drugs, alcohol, a trigger finger, it didn't matter – was the same as theirs.

"From what I gather, you were always 'celebrating' too. Takes the fun out of it. After a while, you just feel numb."

The news had ended. Johnny spoke quietly but his voice seemed to echo loud in the apartment, even though somehow it was just in V's head. "I don't feel numb right now. Which is sayin' somethin', considering I don't even have my own body."

V smirked. "Tellin' me you're not enjoying your ride in mine?"

Johnny put his feet up on the coffee table, a ghost of a smile forming on his face. "Maybe if you weren't such a fucking stubborn host. Let me have a little fun once in a while."

"I am not letting you take control. We've talked about this already." V picked up the katana and resumed sharpening, glancing at Johnny out of the corner of their eye as he frowned.

He waved his hand, shooing the thought away, and moved forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “No—I know, I meant the normal kind of fun. Tequila, drugs—adderall, at least," he amended, when V whipped their head around and narrowed their eyes at him. He put his hands up in mock surrender. "Dancing. The clubs play fuckin' synthpop wavey bullshit, but Afterlife still plays some decent noise."

V rolled their eyes. "You want me to go clubbing."

"I want _us_ to go clubbing. And would it kill you to have one goddamn smoke?"

Hours later V stood outside Afterlife, Johnny a constant presence beside them. The rain had stopped, the puddles on the streets glowing neon with the reflection of the megabuilidngs' lights. They had to admit that it was nice, being out on the town after spending so long with their head down, cooped up unless they were chasing a job. Johnny for his part looked his usual sullen, unimpressed self, but underneath their own appreciation they felt his; barely present and never to be addressed, but it was there.

The club above all was a networking opportunity, so before picking a spot V took the time to scan the place—or, rather, tried to scan the place, before Johnny chastised them. "V. We're here to get fucked up tonight, not pick up another twenty fuckin' jobs."

"I know what we're here for, Johnny," V thought, exasperated. Talking to Johnny in their head rather than out loud, separating thoughts and feelings from words, was becoming easier, and that was both terrifying and convenient. "I just want to make sure we're not in any danger. People haven't exactly _forgotten_ about the Arasaka raid, you know."

"Let's skip the paranoia for tonight,” Johnny suggested, and settled onto a stool at the bar. "Get us a drink. And make it a stiff one."

"Lemme get a Johnny Silverhand," V told the bartender, a smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth. Johnny looked smug.

"A fan of my recipe, huh?"

"Hey, we're here for you. Might as well get what you like to drink." V detected gratitude in the way Johnny grunted, leaned back and crossed his arms, and wondered when they got to know him so well. Their train of thought was interrupted by the bartender delivering the drink, and they knocked it back in a couple gulps. "Can you taste that?"

"It's muted, but yeah."

"I've got a surprise for you." Johnny's eyebrows quirked in curiosity as V pulled Evelyn's cigarette case and a lighter from their jacket pocket.

"Thought you didn't smoke," he said, surprise coloring his voice.

"I'm dyin' anyway," V declared out loud, forgetting for the moment to differentiate between their voices, and plucked a cigarette from the case. Johnny relished in the feeling of V lighting up, the faint smell of the tobacco sharpening his dull senses. The tequila started to kick in, the music suddenly seeming louder to Johnny, his will becoming more prominent as V lost that slight bit of control.

V had forgotten how good it felt to let loose, to not care about terminal diagnoses or megacorporations or even hostile takeovers. They found themselves downing drink after drink, eventually moving on to ordering Jackie Welles’ when they got sick of Johnny’s signature. Johnny couldn’t even complain, just watched V dance and flutter back and forth from the lounge to the bar, relishing in the delayed rush of substances and the lack of cortisol for one night.

He’d lost track of time and was ready to call it a night when he noticed V trudging a little too slowly back to his position at the corner of the bar, their eyes drooping and limbs twitching in the telltale way that indicated a Relic malfunction incoming. “Think we might need to head back, Samurai,” he stated, arms twitching with the restraint of not reaching out to steady them. 

“Johnny,” V slurred, speaking out loud once again. “Fu-uck.” Johnny stepped away from the bar, leading them back towards the entrance of Afterlife. He was more affected than he’d like to admit, feeling himself glitch every other step. He turned to gather V, check on them, and noticed they had disappeared from his field of view – which wasn’t supposed to be able to happen.

But part of the appeal – maybe the only appeal – of being made of code was the ability to blink in and out of consciousness, so he focused and tethered himself back to V, searching for their location in his mind. He glitched for a millisecond, the blue and white construct prison he was so familiar with flashing behind his eyelids as he blinked, then reappeared next to V, who was currently being plied by a nosy, cunt-hungry fucker with a deathwish.

“What kind of implants are those?” he heard the gonk ask in a bad B-movie accent, and turned to his merc with a look of disgust on his face.

“V, tell this piss-ant to screw. Off. We need to get out of here before you tilt over.” V glanced up at the sound of his voice with eyebrows furrowed, looking almost through Johnny and leaning too heavily on the bar. The malfunction had already started, then.

At that moment, the chrome-sniffin’ dick decided he had the absolute balls to grab V’s arm, and that flared Johnny’s anger up past the point of redemption. He blinked twice and backhanded the insignificant fucker, but didn’t phase through him as expected. Instead, V’s hand flew up, sending the guy sprawling, and V pushed themselves up off the bar and began stalking towards the exit in time with Johnny’s movements. His eyes widened behind his aviators. He didn’t have full control yet; he still felt like code in a drifting construct world, but V’s body was aligned with his and his movements influenced the way they behaved.

Once outside the club, he felt V’s body tremble, on the verge of collapse. He hung onto them, hung onto the link, willing them to stand and keep walking. They stumbled along, barely lucid, before their body finally gave out outside the megabuilding that housed their apartment. “Fuck this,” Johnny said, and scooped them up, completely unsure of how V’s body was handling their combined senses. But so many things they did seemed impossible up to this point; hell, he was fifty years fuckin’ flatlined, so even being alive to look after V was an improbability. As Johnny pulled V’s arm around his own shoulders to support them, they opened their eyes and groaned.

“Wha’ happened?”

“You keep scarin’ me, Samurai,” he said softly, surprised when the thought vocalized. “We’re almost there.”

Johnny took his time dumping V onto the bed in the apartment, not wanting to jostle them and risk triggering a worse reaction. V stayed quiet, managing to toe off their combat boots and wriggle out of their jacket before lying horizontally on the bed facing Johnny. Everything hurt. Their head felt like it was cracked open down the middle; their body ached and their skin felt stretched, like something too big was trying to claw its way out. It was getting worse.

Johnny paced back and forth in front of them, powerless to do anything but watch as they cringed every time they were hit by another wave of pain. He’d take some of it on if he could, but for all their shared experiences, the pain of being torn open while your soul was scraped out of your body was V’s to handle. And he was the cause of it.

“Will you stop sulking, Johnny?” V asked from their curled up position. “’S not your fault.”

Johnny scoffed. “What the fuck do you know – you’re practically comatose. Of course it is.”

“Didn’t ask to be flatlined by Arasaka. Didn’t ask for Soulkiller. Didn’t ask for the Relic. Not your fault.”

He couldn’t resist rising to the challenge of their words. “Didn’t ask to be flatlined? I broke into their tower, V. Blew it to smithereens, and didn’t think twice about it. I’d do it again if I could.”

“You can.”

“What the fuck are you—“

V sat up on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. “Once I’m gone, like really gone.” They were interrupted by a violent cough that wracked their body, spatters of blood coloring their palm when they pulled their hand away. Johnny stared, hating every inch of himself, hating that he was doing this to V. “Fuck.” They cleared their throat. “You gotta finish what you started with Arasaka.”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk like that. You’re not gonna die on me.”

“Okay, then, if.”

“There is no ‘if.’ We’re gettin’ out of this, you and me. Even if I gotta drag your ass halfway across Night City lookin’ for a cure.”

A humorless smile crossed V’s face. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Johnny sat down next to V, leaning against the wall and kicking one leg up. “Spent fifty years alone in construct hell. Yours was the first voice I heard since Saburo Arasaka’s. Kinda hard not to get used to that.”

V glanced over, expecting to see Johnny looking up at the ceiling, the window, anywhere but directly into their eyes. His aviators were missing, the intensity of his stare boring through them. V swallowed but rose to the challenge, not breaking eye contact. Johnny leaned forward, crowding V against the wall. They raised their eyebrows and licked their lips, skin flushed. “You wanna kiss me, or keep lookin’ at me like somethin’ to eat?”

A smirk crossed Johnny’s face. “You sayin’ I can’t do both, darlin’?” He closed the distance between them, and it was fucking weird, feeling the rush of both their hormones, the soft warmth of V’s lips parting for him as they gasped. He tasted the blood in their mouth, metallic, and tasted himself, cold code, but somehow it worked. V’s legs fell open and he shifted, slotted forward into that empty space as their lips crashed together. Their hands came up to twist and tangle in his hair and he groaned, wrapping an arm around their hips to pull them down to lie flat on the bed.

Johnny hovered over V, drinking them in. The gold lines that crossed their face, hinting at implants hidden beneath the surface. Their open posture, spread out beneath him. Their defiant stare, the one that he’d come to realize meant this was something they had to do, needed to do. To prove themselves.

“What am I provin’?” V breathed, breaking Johnny’s train of thought. For the most part, they had an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s heads, but some thoughts came through louder than others. Especially when they were in close quarters like this.

Musings weren’t the only things connecting. Johnny felt V’s desire, the rush of heat between their legs, the way they starved for his touch. He smirked.

“Why don’t you tell me, Samurai?” he responded, and moved in to nip at V’s neck. He soothed each bite with a small flick of his tongue, trailing up V’s throat back to their lips. “How much you like when I do this?” he whispered against their lips between kisses. He lowered his hips to grind down softly, the barest touch of friction between them, and V gasped. “How much you want me inside you?”

“Johnny,” V whispered, leaning up to capture his lips like someone drowning. They hooked a finger through his dog tags and pulled him down, flipping the both of them over. Johnny opened his eyes and he was being straddled, V looking down at him through the locks of their hair. “Get this off,” they said, and tugged at his kevlar. His first instinct was to sit up, unbuckle the straps, but he blinked and suddenly the vest was gone, V trailing their manicured fingernails across his chest. They leaned in, flicking their tongue across one of his nipples and he threw his head back and groaned, overstimulated after so long.

But V refused to let up, wrapping their lips around and _sucking,_ the fingers of their left hand playing absentmindedly with his waistband until they felt he’d had enough. They moved on to the other side, relishing in Johnny’s sharp intake of breath and his hands roaming across the expanse of their back. “Your turn, darlin’,” he said, breathless, and tugged at the hem of V’s shirt.

“I’ll do you one better,” V said, and stood, shedding every item of clothing and leaving them in a pile next to the bed. Johnny sat up against the wall, discarding his pants as well. His merc climbed into his lap, grinding down as a moan escaped both of their mouths, and despite being code Johnny had never felt so alive, so warm.

They rutted against each other until the friction had become too much and precome was spilling from the head of Johnny’s cock. “I need more,” V said, as they rested their head against his shoulder. They leaned over to open a hidden compartment next to the bed and pulled out an assortment: lube, a toy, a soft ball gag. Johnny raised his eyebrows at the latter, cutting his eyes to V, who simply gave him a wan smile. “For you, or me, you choose.”

Johnny threw his head back and groaned, wrapping his hand around the back of V’s neck and pulling them in for a kiss. His other hand grabbed at their thighs and adjusted until they were lying on the bed once more, looking up at Johnny with wide eyes. “Do you wanna—“

“Shut the fuck up,” he commanded. V’s mouth snapped shut, sending a rush of heat to Johnny’s core. He leaned in next to their ear. “You safeword me if you need to, got it. Afterlife?” V nodded eagerly and went limp, awaiting Johnny’s next instructions.

“Hands above your head. If you touch me, I stop.” V nodded once more and complied, crossing their wrists and letting Johnny gingerly wrap the strap of the gag around the back of their head. Johnny grabbed the lube and slicked up two fingers on his right hand, resting the other at the base of V’s throat.

He teased their entrance at first, watching them squirm as their chest rose and fell heavily. V whined, a high pitched thing that went straight to Johnny’s cock. He was aching, patience thinning, but he worked V open with one finger, then two, adding a third until they were mewling and begging through the gag, _please_ and _fuck me_ and _daddy_ and Johnny couldn’t take it anymore. He lined up and entered them slowly, feeling them tense up around his cock, then relax by degrees until he was buried to the hilt. He had to stop and breathe, the sensation almost too much. It had been a long while since he’d fucked someone – or gotten fucked – but it was also _V_ , his little merc, his _Samurai_ , and if he thought about it too long he might do something fucking embarrassing like tear up, so he started to move.

V moaned around the gag, loud enough that it echoed off the walls and reverberated directly into Johnny’s skull, and he leaned down to bite at their shoulder, their neck, anywhere that his mouth could reach. He had the irresistible urge to be closer, to get more, and he reached down to sling their leg up, resting their calf on his shoulder, burying himself impossibly deeper inside V.

V broke their promise, unable to keep their composure as Johnny pounded them into the thin mattress, and reached for him, twisting locks of his hair around their fingers. Pulling until Johnny was moaning and quickening his thrusts in punishment. Tears pricked at the corners of their eyes as Johnny wrapped his left hand around their neck and squeezed. “Fuck yeah, V, feel fuckin’ amazing, darlin’,” he moaned as he drilled into them and they swelled with pride. V hooked their leg around Johnny’s waist, an invitation, and Johnny leaned forward, using his grip on V’s neck to steady himself as he fucked them, staring directly into their eyes as if waiting for their orgasm to build, daring them to come.

It was almost too much, Johnny’s pressure on their throat, his cock slamming into them again and again, and they cried out, back arching as Johnny’s eyes bored into their soul. They tightened around his cock as their orgasm shook them, high-pitched, cut off moans escaping from around the gag. Johnny groaned from deep within his chest, the tightness and warmth enveloping him, and came inside V, letting himself ride out the aftershocks.

He pulled out, unwrapping the tie from V’s head and removing the gag. V immediately pounced on him, kissing him hungrily, biting at his lips until they were red and sore. “Fuck,” they whispered, coming up for air for a millisecond before diving back down again, avoiding Johnny’s lips this time and kissing their way down his torso.

“Hey Samurai, dunno if I can—“ V cut him off by placing a soft kiss to the head of his still-hard cock and he glanced down, impressed. “Guess this whole biochip thing has its benefits.”

V licked a slow stripe from the base of Johnny’s cock to the head, wrapping their lips around it and sucking in short, quick draws, then slid their mouth off with a pop. “Can you taste _that_?” they smirked, not waiting for Johnny’s groan in response before starting again. Truth is Johnny _could_ taste it, could taste the sweat and come and hint of lube, and it turned him on, would’ve made his cock harder if that was even possible. V swallowed Johnny down with appreciative moans as he tugged at their hair, moaned their praises in a rhythm that was so sweet to his merc’s ears it could have been a song. When he came, spasming with overstimulation, V took it in stride, letting him fuck their throat until it was raw, come shooting down their trachea and Johnny’s impossibly tight grip on their hair.

“Maybe we should go out more often,” V suggested in a cracked voice, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around their waist. Johnny didn’t need to shower, to V’s annoyance – he just decided he was clean and he was. 

“Fuck no,” Johnny said. “Next time you pass out and some weak-wristed shitbrain tries to fuckin’ touch you, I won’t be so nice.”

V snickered as they curled up next to Johnny and he wrapped his arm around their shoulders. “That your idea of nice?” 

One corner of Johnny’s mouth tilted up. “Ask Arasaka.”


End file.
